a talk to teacher

1. Baldwin is speaking in America in 1963 and is addressing what is, in that moment, a national crisis. What parts of that situation are different from our current moment and need to be “listened to rhetorically” (p. 5-7 of the AGWR) and translated in order for us to understand his message now as it was understood then?2. Thinking of ourselves as writers writing to a current audience, what parts of our own context (historical or cultural) do we need to pay special attention to and be careful with when writing about Baldwin in order to shape our own ethos and not be misunderstood by our own audience? Are there problematic issues or differences in language, etc. that we need to handle with sensitivity in order to keep a good ethos with our readers?
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9/30/2017
“A Talk to Teachers” James Baldwin, 1963
“A Talk to Teachers”
By James Baldwin
(Delivered October 16, 1963, as “The Negro Child – His Self-Image”; originally published in The Saturday Review, December 21, 1963,
reprinted in The Price of the Ticket, Collected Non-Fiction 1948-1985, Saint Martins 1985.)
Let’s begin by saying that we are living through a very dangerous time. Everyone in this room is in one way or another aware of that. We are
in a revolutionary situation, no matter how unpopular that word has become in this country. The society in which we live is desperately
menaced, not by Khrushchev, but from within. To any citizen of this country who ?gures himself as responsible – and particularly those of
you who deal with the minds and hearts of young people – must be prepared to “go for broke.” Or to put it another way, you must understand
that in the attempt to correct so many generations of bad faith and cruelty, when it is operating not only in the classroom but in society, you
will meet the most fantastic, the most brutal, and the most determined resistance. There is no point in pretending that this won’t happen.
Since I am talking to schoolteachers and I am not a teacher myself, and in some ways am fairly easily intimidated, I beg you to let me leave
that and go back to what I think to be the entire purpose of education in the ?rst place. It would seem to me that when a child is born, if I’m
the child’s parent, it is my obligation and my high duty to civilize that child. Man is a social animal. He cannot exist without a society. A
society, in turn, depends on certain things which everyone within that society takes for granted. Now the crucial paradox which confronts us
here is that the whole process of education occurs within a social framework and is designed to perpetuate the aims of society. Thus, for
example, the boys and girls who were born during the era of the Third Reich, when educated to the purposes of the Third Reich, became
barbarians. The paradox of education is precisely this – that as one begins to become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he
is being educated. The purpose of education, ?nally, is to create in a person the ability to look at the world for himself, to make his own
decisions, to say to himself this is black or this is white, to decide for himself whether there is a God in heaven or not. To ask questions of the
universe, and then learn to live with those questions, is the way he achieves his own identity. But no society is really anxious to have that
kind of person around. What societies really, ideally, want is a citizenry which will simply obey the rules of society. If a society succeeds in
this, that society is about to perish. The obligation of anyone who thinks of himself as responsible is to examine society and try to change it
and to ?ght it – at no matter what risk. This is the only hope society has. This is the only way societies change.
Now, if what I have tried to sketch has any validity, it becomes thoroughly clear, at least to me, that any Negro who is born in this country and
undergoes the American educational system runs the risk of becoming schizophrenic. On the one hand he is born in the shadow of the stars
and stripes and he is assured it represents a nation which has never lost a war. He pledges allegiance to that ?ag which guarantees “liberty
and justice for all.” He is part of a country in which anyone can become president, and so forth. But on the other hand he is also assured by
his country and his countrymen that he has never contributed anything to civilization – that his past is nothing more than a record of
humiliations gladly endured. He is assumed by the republic that he, his father, his mother, and his ancestors were happy, shiftless,
watermelon-eating darkies who loved Mr. Charlie and Miss Ann, that the value he has as a black man is proven by one thing only – his
devotion to white people. If you think I am exaggerating, examine the myths which proliferate in this country about Negroes.
All this enters the child’s consciousness much sooner than we as adults would like to think it does. As adults, we are easily fooled because
we are so anxious to be fooled. But children are very different. Children, not yet aware that it is dangerous to look too deeply at anything,
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look at everything, look at each other, and draw their own conclusions. They don’t have the vocabulary to express what they see, and we,
their elders, know how to intimidate them very easily and very soon. But a black child, looking at the world around him, though he cannot
know quite what to make of it, is aware that there is a reason why his mother works so hard, why his father is always on edge. He is aware
that there is some reason why, if he sits down in the front of the bus, his father or mother slaps him and drags him to the back of the bus. He
is aware that there is some terrible weight on his parents’ shoulders which menaces him. And it isn’t long – in fact it begins when he is in
school – before he discovers the shape of his oppression.
Let us say that the child is seven years old and I am his father, and I decide to take him to the zoo, or to Madison Square Garden, or to the
U.N. Building, or to any of the tremendous monuments we ?nd all over New York. We get into a bus and we go from where I live on 131st
Street and Seventh Avenue downtown through the park and we get in New York City, which is not Harlem. Now, where the boy lives – even
if it is a housing project – is in an undesirable neighborhood. If he lives in one of those housing projects of which everyone in New York is so
proud, he has at the front door, if not closer, the pimps, the whores, the junkies – in a word, the danger of life in the ghetto. And the child
knows this, though he doesn’t know why.
I still remember my ?rst sight of New York. It was really another city when I was born – where I was born. We looked down over the Park
Avenue streetcar tracks. It was Park Avenue, but I didn’t know what Park Avenue meant downtown. The Park Avenue I grew up on, which is
still standing, is dark and dirty. No one would dream of opening a Tiffany’s on that Park Avenue, and when you go downtown you discover
that you are literally in the white world. It is rich – or at least it looks rich. It is clean – because they collect garbage downtown. There are
doormen. People walk about as though they owned where they are – and indeed they do. And it’s a great shock. It’s very hard to relate
yourself to this. You don’t know what it means. You know – you know instinctively – that none of this is for you. You know this before you
are told. And who is it for and who is paying for it? And why isn’t it for you?
Later on when you become a grocery boy or messenger and you try to enter one of those buildings a man says, “Go to the back door.” Still
later, if you happen by some odd chance to have a friend in one of those buildings, the man says, “Where’s your package?” Now this by no
means is the core of the matter. What I’m trying to get at is that by the time the Negro child has had, effectively, almost all the doors of
opportunity slammed in his face, and there are very few things he can do about it. He can more or less accept it with an absolutely
inarticulate and dangerous rage inside – all the more dangerous because it is never expressed. It is precisely those silent people whom white
people see every day of their lives – I mean your porter and your maid, who never say anything more than “Yes Sir” and “No, Ma’am.” They
will tell you it’s raining if that is what you want to hear, and they will tell you the sun is shining if that is what you want to hear. They really
hate you – really hate you because in their eyes (and they’re right) you stand between them and life. I want to come back to that in a
moment. It is the most sinister of the facts, I think, which we now face.
There is something else the Negro child can do, to. Every street boy – and I was a street boy, so I know – looking at the society which has
produced him, looking at the standards of that society which are not honored by anybody, looking at your churches and the government and
the politicians, understand that this structure is operated for someone else’s bene?t – not for his. And there’s no reason in it for him. If he is
really cunning, really ruthless, really strong – and many of us are – he becomes a kind of criminal. He becomes a kind of criminal because
that’s the only way he can live. Harlem and every ghetto in this city – every ghetto in this country – is full of people who live outside the
law. They wouldn’t dream of calling a policeman. They wouldn’t, for a moment, listen to any of those professions of which we are so proud
on the Fourth of July. They have turned away from this country forever and totally. They live by their wits and really long to see the day
when the entire structure comes down.
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The point of all this is that black men were brought here as a source of cheap labor. They were indispensable to the economy. In order to
justify the fact that men were treated as though they were animals, the white republic had to brainwash itself into believing that they were,
indeed, animals and deserved to be treated like animals. Therefor it is almost impossible for any Negro child to discover anything about his
actual history. The reason is that this “animal,” once he suspects his own worth, once he starts believing that he is a man, has begun to attack
the entire power structure. This is why America has spent such a long time keeping the Negro in his place. What I am trying to suggest to
you is that it was not an accident, it was not an act of God, it was not done by well-meaning people muddling into something which they
didn’t understand. It was a deliberate policy hammered into place in or4der to make money from black ?esh. And now, in 1963, because we
have never faced this fact, we are in intolerable trouble.
The Reconstruction, as I read the evidence, was a bargain between the North and South to this effect: “We’ve liberated them from the land –
and delivered them to the bosses.” When we left Mississippi to come North we did not come to freedom. We came to the bottom of the labor
market, and we are still there. Even the Depression of the 1930’s failed to make a dent in Negroes’ relationship to white workers in the labor
unions. Even today, so brainwashed is this republic that people seriously ask in what they suppose to be good faith, “What does the Negro
want?” I’ve heard a great many asinine questions in my life, but that is perhaps the most asinine and perhaps the most insulting. But the
point here is that people who ask that question, thinking that they ask it in good faith, are really the victims of this conspiracy to make
Negroes believe they are less than human.
In order for me to live, I decided very early that some mistake had been made somewhere. I was not a “nigger” even though you called me
one. But if I was a “nigger” in your eyes, there was something about you – there was something you needed. I had to realize when I was very
young that I was none of those things I was told I was. I was not, for example, happy. I never touched a watermelon for all kinds of reasons
that had been invented by white people, and I knew enough about life by this time to understand that whatever you invent, whatever you
project, is you! So where we are no is that a whole country of people believe I’m a “nigger,” and I don’t , and the battle’s on! Because if I am
not what I’ve been told I am, then it means that you’re not what you thought you were either! And that is the crisis.
It is not really a “Negro revolution” that is upsetting the country. What is upsetting the country is a sense of its own identity. If, for example,
one managed to change the curriculum in all the schools so that Negroes learned more about themselves and their real contributions to this
culture, you would be liberating not only Negroes, you’d be liberating white people who know nothing about their own history. And the
reason is that if you are compelled to lie about one aspect of anybody’s history, you must lie about it all. If you have to lie about my real role
here, if you have to pretend that I hoed all that cotton just because I loved you, then you have done something to yourself. You are mad.
Now let’s go back a minute. I talked earlier about those silent people – the porter and the maid – who, as I said, don’t look up at the sky if you
ask them if it is raining, but look into your face. My ancestors and I were very well trained. We understood very early that this was not a
Christian nation. It didn’t matter what you said or how often you went to church. My father and my mother and my grandfather and my
grandmother knew that Christians didn’t act this way. It was a simple as that. And if that was so there was no point in dealing with white
people in terms of their own moral professions, for they were not going to honor them. What one did was to turn away, smiling all the time,
and tell white people what they wanted to hear. But people always accuse you of reckless talk when you say this.
All this means that there are in this country tremendous reservoirs of bitterness which have never been able to ?nd an outlet, but may ?nd an
outlet soon. It means that well-meaning white liberals place themselves in great danger when they try to deal with Negroes as though they
were missionaries. It means, in brief, that a great price is demanded to liberate all those silent people so that they can breathe for the ?rst time
and tell you what they think of you. And a price is demanded to liberate all those white children – some of them near forty – who have never
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grown up, and who never will grow up, because they have no sense of their identity.
What passes for identity in America is a series of myths about one’s heroic ancestors. It’s astounding to me, for example, that so many people
really appear to believe that the country was founded by a band of heroes who wanted to be free. That happens not to be true. What
happened was that some people left Europe because they couldn’t stay there any longer and had to go someplace else to make it. That’s all.
They were hungry, they were poor, they were convicts. Those who were making it in England, for example, did not get on the May?ower.
That’s how the country was settled. Not by Gary Cooper. Yet we have a whole race of people, a whole republic, who believe the myths to
the point where even today they select political representatives, as far as I can tell, by how closely they resemble Gary Cooper. Now this is
dangerously infantile, and it shows in every level of national life. When I was living in Europe, for example, one of the worst revelations to
me was the way Americans walked around Europe buying this and buying that and insulting everybody – not even out of malice, just because
they didn’t know any better. Well, that is the way they have always treated me. They weren’t cruel; they just didn’t know you were alive.
They didn’t know you had any feelings.
What I am trying to suggest here is that in the doing of all this for 100 years or more, it is the American white man who has long since lost his
grip on reality. In some peculiar way, having created this myth about Negroes, and the myth about his own history, he created myths about
the world so that, for example, he was astounded that some people could prefer Castro, astounded that there are people in the world who don’t
go into hiding when they hear the word “Communism,” astounded that Communism is one of the realities of the twentieth century which we
will not overcome by pretending that it does not exist. The political level in this country now, on the part of people who should know better,
is abysmal.
The Bible says somewhere that where there is no vision the people perish. I don’t think anyone can doubt that in this country today we are
menaced – intolerably menaced – by a lack of vision.
It is inconceivable that a sovereign people should continue, as we do so abjectly, to say, “I can’t do anything about it. It’s the government.”
The government is the creation of the people. It is responsible to the people. And the people are responsible for it. No American has the
right to allow the present government to say, when Negro children are being bombed and hosed and shot and beaten all over the Deep South,
that there is nothing we can do about it. There must have been a day in this country’s life when the bombing of the children in Sunday School
would have created a public uproar and endangered the life of a Governor Wallace. It happened here and there was no public uproar.
I began by saying that one of the paradoxes of education was that precisely at the point when you begin to develop a conscience, you must
?nd yourself at war with your society. It is your responsibility to change society if you think of yourself as an educated person. And on the
basis of the evidence – the moral and political evidence – one is compelled to say that this is a backward society. Now if I were a teacher in
this school, or any Negro school, and I was dealing with Negro children, who were in my care only a few hours of every day and would then
return to their homes and to the streets, children who have an apprehension of their future which with every hour grows grimmer and darker, I
would try to teach them – I would try to make them know – that those streets, those houses, those dangers, those agonies by which they are
surrounded, are criminal. I would try to make each child know that these things are the result of a criminal conspiracy to destroy him. I
would teach him that if he intends to get to be a man, he must at once decide that his is stronger than this conspiracy and they he must never
make his peace with it. And that one of his weapons for refusing to make his peace with it and for destroying it depends on what he decides
he is worth. I would teach him that there are currently very few standards in this country which are worth a man’s respect. That it is up to
him to change these standards for the sake of the life and the health of the country. I would suggest to him that the popular culture – as
represented, for example, on television and in comic books and in movies – is based on fantasies created by very ill people, and he must be
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aware that these are fantasies that have nothing to do with reality. I would teach him that the press he reads is not as free as it says it is – and
that he can do something about that, too. I would try to make him know that just as American history is longer, larger, more various, more
beautiful and more terrible than anything anyone has ever said about it, so is the world larger, more daring, more beautiful and more terrible,
but principally larger – and that it belongs to him. I would teach him that he doesn’t have to be bound by the expediencies of any given
administration, any given policy, any given morality; that he has the right and the necessity to examine everything. I would try to show him
that one has not learned anything about Castro when one says, “He is a Communist.” This is a way of his not learning something about
Castro, something about Cuba, something, in t …
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